


We Still Need to Survive

by naturally_geeky



Series: The Song Made Me Write It [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Minor Character Death, Off-screen Character Death, Pack Feels, Spider-man Reference, Stiles-centric, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturally_geeky/pseuds/naturally_geeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by "Nothing Left to Say" by Imagine Dragons.</p><p>The pack fought against an opponent that was much worse than they imagined. After suffering their own losses, they managed to win but now they needed to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Still Need to Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Another song inspired fic. Again, this one isn't beta'd so all mistakes are my own (an I apologize in advance for any that you may find). I did kill off a few characters and I'm really sorry I did because they're actually two of my favourite ones (after Stiles and Derek of course). 
> 
> Graphic description of gore so you've been warned.

It started with a fight bloodier than anyone could have imagined. With teens not meant to be soldiers, fighting a war that no one knew was happening. Teens forced to grow into adults long before their time; no one told them this wasn't how it was supposed to be… it seemed like there was a lot that wasn't supposed to be how it was. They were just a group of teens given a second chance in life, given something that most people just dreamed of but ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. Uncle Ben really knew what he was talking about, too bad he didn't know about werewolves…

Stiles had managed to prop himself up against a large oak tree, face swollen and bleeding as he looked at the massacre around him. They’d won; too bad it didn't feel like it. He let out a ragged breath, looking down at his blood covered hand, unsure of if it was broken or just sore from the punches he’d thrown minutes before. It didn't matter either way because there were more important things to deal with. 

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up into a standing position, fighting against the pain blossoming throughout his body as he did so. _‘We’re not done yet,’_ he coaxed himself mentally, _‘we may have won but we still need to survive.’_

Forcing himself towards the group of wolves, his eyes scanned the through the mangled carcasses of the opposing pack, the pack that had done far more damage than they had ever imagined. Bodies littered with claw marks so deep he could see bone and internal organs, bite marks so deep they’d almost removed limbs, and arrows puncturing parts that you’d never want to see something sharp anywhere near. 

_‘C'mon Stiles, they’re dead, you have to help the living now,’_ his mind commented. 

Walking was another issue that he had to push through. He had a limp so bad he wasn't even sure he should be putting pressure on it and with each step he could feel the squish of blood in his shoes. His pants were torn in multiple places, revealing blood stained and aching legs, marks that were sure to heal with thick scars. They were war wounds, there to remind him just what they’d been through. His hoodie was missing; he could vaguely remember using it to cover a wound that Lydia had sustained so it could stop the bleeding. The shirt he wore was from the day before. A one beloved shirt with a Batman logo on it that now clung to his skin with the blood of others and was more brown than black. 

It seemed like years for the boy to limp his way over to Scott, his fallen companion. Scott, who seemed to be already half healed, propped himself into the sitting positioned and seemed to be slowly taking in the scene with a concerned look on his features. 

“Stiles,” Scott said gently, rising to his feet to get a better look at his best friend. “You should be sitting down; we need to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” Stiles replied, looking at Scott with a stern look, “we have to help the others first.”

Scott turned his head, averting his eyes from Stiles’ face so he could scan the rest of the pack. Boyd was hunched over a body that from the blonde hair and combat boots, told him it was Erica, and from the way he could only hear one heart beat coming from that direction, he knew she hadn't made it. Moving his eyes again, he noticed Isaac was sitting up against a tree clutching onto his left arm. Gold eyes met Scott's and a nod of reassurance from Isaac told him that the boy would be okay. Lydia was sitting near Allison, both battered and bruised but more intact than he expected. What stood out the most about the redhead, was Stiles’ blue hoodie that was tied tightly around her right calf, holding together skin that had be torn by sharp claws. Beside her, Allison was shaking and crying with the worst of her trauma being the knowledge that she had killed and help killed so many others. Werewolves or not, it wasn't a weight anyone wanted to carry around. His final glance was towards Derek, who still stood in front of the fallen Alpha; his posture stiff with wolfish features slowly turning back to human. 

“Everyone will be okay, Scott,” Stiles whisper hoarsely, placing his uninjured hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If we can just leave before the sheriffs department show up, we can talk to my da-” Stiles paused mind thought, realizing that they couldn't just talk to his dad to clear this up because his dad hadn't made it past the initial attack by the opposing pack. “Oh my god,” the boy gasped as his legs gave out, body crumbling to the ground before Scott could catch him. “ I'm alone,” he gasped again, tears pouring down his face like a broken levee. His breath caught again and his shoulders shook violently as realization and shock set in. “Scott, I'm never going to see my dad again,” he began, voice catching with each word. “Where am I supposed to live? What am I supposed to do? Oh my god my dads dead,” he whispered, hands clasping over his mouth. 

Scott knelt down beside the lanky boy, wrapping his arms around his body, rubbing circles on the boys back. “Shhhh,” he cooed, “it’s going to be okay, and we’ll figure this out. My mom will help you out, I’ll help you out. Shhhh…”

Stiles’ eyes were shut tightly as he rocked in Scott’s arms, “My entire family is gone,” he breathed, “it’s just me left, Scott, it’s just me.”

“ You've got the whole pack,” a voice spoke, “you’ll never be alone, Stiles.” 

Strong arms wrapped around Stiles’ chest as he felt Scott pull away. They were trying their best to not harm the human any more than he already was as they lifted him into a standing position. Looking over his shoulder Stiles noticed that it was Derek helping him stand and trying to help him walk in the direction of their vehicles. 

It was slow going this time, Stiles’ feet didn't want to move to where they were supposed to go but he guessed it might have something to do with the blood loss and adrenaline crash. A look around showed him that the pack was following at their own place. Alison helped Lydia walk with Scott right at her side. Boyd carried the body of a limp Erica as tears streamed down his cheeks. Isaac walked on the other side of Derek, seemingly doing much better than before. Next to him, Derek’s clothes were torn and were splattered with dried blood but without the wounds Stiles wasn't sure whose blood it was. 

When they finally were in sight of their vehicles, Stiles could feel his eyelids getting heavy. Every time he’d close them for a few seconds, he could feel Derek shift his body just enough that a sharp stab of pain in his ribs.

“You have to stay awake, Stiles,” Derek said calmly, “I know you've lost a lot of blood but you can’t sleep. Just stay awake a little longer for me.”

With heavy eyelids closing again, the boy barely managed to reply with an “I can’t” before the darkness consumed him, leaving him heavy and limp in Derek’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> The story isn't done yet but I wanted to publish this while I thought up the rest of it. Shouldn't be more than one more chapter that'll hopefully end on a happier note - no promises though, like I said before, idle hands.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed and if you found any grammatical mistakes, please let me know and I will fix them! 
> 
> Cheers! (Or tears?)


End file.
